In the 19 years I have been alive, I have survived a number of obstacles — a grueling eye surgery, a 15-year-old brother who knows better than anyone how to annoy me, a face full of mosquito bites at my aunt’s professionally photographed wedding and an assortment of similar catastrophes.
Upon arriving at this university, however, I have realized that there are far more challenging, life-molding, character-changing, mind-boggling, heart-wrenching tests. Namely, there is one I must endure everyday: the climb up the looming mountain that rests between Stamp Student Union and Cole Field House.
Yes, it is a mountain. You see, that monolithic being represents a journey that captures the epitome of a student’s life. It’s a hill that gets steeper and steeper every four meters you climb. Occasionally, it blasts you with a dose of hazy, white gas — a strange chemical that I have yet to pinpoint the exact location and nature of — synonymous with the hazy, obstructing distractions of life. To make matters worse, there are no railings — it is just you and the elements of nature.
On days when I must make that fateful journey, I am reminded of the way it completely symbolizes my life. The burden on my backpack weighs on my shoulders. Sweat pours down my back. Every muscle in my body screams for relief. My feet struggle to move forward and my knees bend to the floor while my backpack yanks me back. I’m a puppet floating with strings.
But I climb anyway.
I could choose to travel light. But you see, I’ve got my eyes on the prize. You can’t buy that $1.47 bean burrito from Taco Bell without a wallet. So I jostle my belongings and bear the burden.
Some students can merrily skip down my mini-Armageddon, hurtling down the challenge that defines my very existence. They have it easy. My insides flare up.
But worst of all is the mountain’s sheer power to expose the inner workings of man. In a few meters’ length, the obstacle can reveal the best and the worst of a person’s physical state. In front of this being, there is nothing you can hide. In a matter of seconds, it will reveal your true colors and bring you down to your knees, spluttering, gagging, huffing and puffing erratically.
In these brief moments, I remind myself that life has no shortcuts. I don’t know about you, but I aim to go up. The load on my back, the white burst of haze to my left and the apparent ease of others isn’t going to stop me. I may be out of shape, but it’s going to take more than few huffs and puffs to make me give up.
So the next time you see me walking up my personal Mount Everest, know that I’ll be climbing this little obstacle my four years here. We’ll all be climbing this hill together.
And when someone remarks, “Hey, kid. Why don’t you just cut through Stamp and save yourself all the trouble?”
I’ll say, “Good question. Maybe that’s why I’m here, studying at this university.”
Fatimah Waseem is a freshman journalism and physiology and neurobiology major. She can be reached at waseem@umdbk.com.
